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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945950">The Primal Chamber</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breeding, Eggs, M/M, Mechpreg, Multi, Porn With Plot, Pregnant Sex, Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, sort of more like pods, sort of the plot is implied</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:40:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,721</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945950</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The room itself is alive and teeming with life, a symbolic and nearly literal womb. Each of the numerous pods protecting the fragile developing frames of newsparks. And at the center of it all, their Mother, their Creator, their <i>Prime</i>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Megatron/Optimus Prime, Optimus Prime/Everyone(implied), Optimus Prime/Ratchet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is straight-up created to fulfill my own personal kinks, but I thought I would share it with the world just to see if it vibes with anyone else<br/>Am slightly tempted to write an actual AU based on this slutty oneshot, but I'm posting this anonymously first to test the waters before I admit to writing this lol<br/>Hope y'all enjoy it</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>The chamber is dark, lit only by the pulsating blue glow of the energon veins feeding into the small rounded pods scattered throughout, clinging to the walls, the ceiling, embedded into the soft mesh of the floor. The room itself is alive and teeming with life, a symbolic and nearly literal womb. Each of the numerous pods protecting the fragile developing frames of newsparks. And at the center of it all, their Mother, their Creator, their </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prime</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Reclined on a bed of cables, and wires, and veins, plugged in and connected to the chamber itself, its very spark. To break that connection would be to kill all the fragile little sparks at once, a tragedy of incalculable sorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Outside, the chamber is fiercely guarded, all precautions taken, all mechs on alert. They protect the very future of their race, a race diminished and nearly driven to extinction by war. They are on edge, on an alien world, their war freshly over, and banded together by the need to protect the developing generation within, not even the Lord Protector may approach without suspicion. The guards prod and scan and scrutinize him, and for all the legends of Lord Megatron’s temper, he lets them, satisfied that those guarding his Prime, his mate, and their future, let not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> past them unmolested. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>His optics adjust to the darkness of the chamber with ease. He surveys the pods, optics and scanners tracing over them; checking their temperature, their fuel levels, their spark signatures, searching for any damage or malfunction, and finding none. They are healthy and growing well. His gaze turns next to his Prime, lying leisurely in the chamber’s center, soft blue optics watching him half-lidded, his middle round and swollen with Megatron’s newspark, the only spark the Prime carries so close to himself, the next Prime, the only spark with a true Sire. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Megatron…” Prime sighs meeting Megatron’s gaze. Optimus is constantly tired, it is from his frame the chamber grows, blooming out from him to cradle him and the newsparks, a great cocoon of life. It is from his frame that the newsparks are nurtured and fed. He is hooked into the fuel systems of the Ark, siphoning its fuel into himself and filtering it out to the newsparks. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But it is not only fuel the newsparks need.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Megatron…” Optimus moans, spreading his legs wide, valve swollen and flushed with arousal, lubricant and silvery transfluid leaking out in a slow slide, bright blue anterior node pulsing. Megatron is drawn towards him, stepping forward and running his taloned fingers carefully over the soft mesh of Optimus’ valve, careful to keep their sharp ends pointed away. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hush, my Prime. I have you,” Megatron croons, smearing lubricant and transfluid around Optimus’s valve and gently rubbing over his node. Optimus only spreads his legs further apart with a soft whimper. Megatron’s interface panel transforms away as his spike pressurizes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have you,” he repeats as he slides his spike gently in between the mesh folds of Optimus’s valve, the head catching on the rim for just a moment before slipping inside, the calipers of Optimus’s valve clenching as if to pull him in. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Optimus shudders and the chamber shudders with him. Megatron runs a soothing hand down his side, cupping the swollen mesh of his middle, as he bottoms out, spike pressed firmly against Optimus’s ceiling node, calipers stretched and clenching, as Optimus wraps his legs around Megatron’s hips as if to hold him there as deep as he can go. Megatron grinds their hips together until Optimus loosens the vice of his legs. He begins to thrust, slow and deep, a steady but gentle pace that warms Optimus’ sensors. Megatron continues to caress him as he thrusts into his valve, the slick slide of his spike building charge, taloned hands tracing Optimus’ seams gently, plucking at delicate wires and teasing tactile sensors. Optimus cooling fans whirr and his engine thrums.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Mega!” he moans, “More!” and Megatron provides, thrusting faster, harder, bumping repeatedly against Optimus’ ceiling node. Each thrust sending bolt after bolt of pleasure through Optimus’s struts, again and again. His vents stutter, hands gripping Megatron’s shoulders tight, legs wrapped around Megatron’s waist, so his thrusts grow shorter, faster. His rhythm begins to falter. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Optimus!” he grunts into Optimus’s audial, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>My </span>
  </em>
  <span>Prime!” he hisses, his hands curl possessively over the swell off Optimus’s middle, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mine”</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron’s engine roars and he overloads with a hoarse shout, the hot flush of his transfluid against Optimus’ ceiling node sending Optimus over the edge with a keen, his valve clenching, milking Megatron’s spike for every drop of transfluid it can and siphoning it in and out through the chamber, building material for the developing frames. Megatron’s spike is still pressurized, and as the aftershocks of their overloads fade, he begins rocking into Optimus again with a groan, it will take multiple overloads to empty Megatron’s transfluid tanks, and when he’s done, another mech will come and empty his tanks into Optimus, and then another, and another, again and again, until Megatron returns and the cycle of mechs begins anew. There are so many little frames to build after all. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wasn't sure I was going to continue this, but then this happened.<br/>Still don't know if there will be any more after this, but we'll see.<br/>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>Ratchet steps into the chamber with scanners already running. Sparing not even a glance towards the burning blue optics that lock onto him as he begins a slow circuit through the room. Data bouncing back to him in waves as he scans each pod carefully, taking the time to lay a hand on each one he can reach and scrutinizing the ones he can’t with shrewd optics and repeated scans. He traces the wires and veins of the chamber, notes the flow lines that feed into the sparklings’ pods. All the while ignoring the way the chamber begins to hum around him, ignoring the little shocks of static charge that follow his fingers and nip at his feet, the way the wires tremble and the energon lines pulse faster. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Ratchet,” Optimus moans softly, as the medic’s path through the chamber leads him closer and closer to Optimus’s form in the center. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Tch,” Ratchet tuts, circling Optimus and eyeing the scratches left on his plating by Megatron’s talons, Megatron isn’t the only mech with talons, but he’s the only mech that would survive leaving such marks on the Prime. He traces his fingers over the marks, they aren’t deep, and with Optimus’s healing nanites running high while he Clutches, they won’t even need to be buffed out. Still, Optimus shivers at his touch, engine rumbling, plating shifting. Ratchet ignores him, running his hands down Optimus’s sides and underneath him, tracing the points of connection between Optimus and the chamber, checking the wires and veins and growth points. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Ratchet!” Optimus huffs, squirming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Alright, alright!” Ratchet grumbles mostly satisfied that Optimus’s connection with the chamber is secure and nothing has been damaged since the last time Ratchet was here to check. He moves to crouch between Optimus’s spread legs, and strokes his fingers along the swollen mesh of Optimus’s valve lips, before using his thumbs to spread them apart. Fresh lubricant seeps as Ratchet slips his thumb in to trace the rim of Optimus’s valve, the Prime shudders at his touch, hips shifting and Ratchet watches as his valve flutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No aches? No pains?” Ratchet swipes his finger through the trickle of lubricant, smearing the substance between his thumb and forefinger as he stands, and huffs “No dryness?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I am perfectly well, old friend, and you know it” Optimus huffs back, “but I would be even better if you would cease fussing over me and get on with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Tch! Fine, have it your way,” and without any more preamble Ratchet slides his panel back and lets his spike pressurize right into Optimus’s valve. He may be less endowed than some of the other bots tending to the Prime, but there was a reason they used to call him the Party Ambulance. His spike boasted a rather delightful texture mod that added a series of ridges along his spike that he could run a light charge through, as well as a small series of bumps just above his spike that he can grind against the anterior node of his partners. He ground that set bumps against Optimus’s node now along with a few pulses of charge. Optimus’s hips jerked against his and soon enough the two of them found a rhythm grinding against each other. Ratchet ground his mod against Optimus’s node and pulsed charge in random patterns, content for the moment to drive up the Prime’s charge and enjoy the rippling of his valve. The chamber around them hummed with energy as Optimus grew closer and closer to overload until finally he reached the tipping point and fell over the edge with a few stuttering jerks of his hips and a soft exhale. Ratchet kept up his rhythm as Optimus's valve clenched around him. When Optimus’s overload had passed, Ratchet shifted, his hands falling to grip Optimus’s thighs before pulling nearly all the way out of the Prime’s valve before thrusting back in hard and fast and pulsing a higher charge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Ah!” Optimus cried out, “Ratchet!” The Prime hooked his hands under his knees to keep himself spread open as the medic set a new punishing pace, thrusts interspersed with pulses of charge from his spike. He fairly pounded into Optimus now, throwing his weight into each thrust as Optimus writhed beneath him. Ratchet tipped into overload first, thrusting deep and grinding against Prime’s node as he spilled inside with a growl of his engine. Optimus followed him with a low keen, the feeling of hot fresh transfluid spurting into him was something he quite enjoyed normally, but while he was Clutching his body was fine-tuned to the sensation and the feeling of the nanites being drawn into his gestation systems was more than enough to send him crashing into overload every time it happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Good?” Ratchet huffed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Very good, old friend.” Optimus smiled, reaching out with one hand to cup the side of Ratchet’s face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Ratchet’s optics met his and he gave the Prime a soft smile of his own before he huffed, “You tell me if that changes, then.” and proceeded to give a harsh thrust into Optimus’s still twitching valve. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Ah!” Optimus cried out, and the cycle continued. </span>
</p>
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